#TBT New Boots and One Stinking Trout

From the pre-HD Video era here's a throwback to a time when my buddy Paisley and I took a fishing trip. 

San Juan River Trip Highlights

The San Juan River at Navajo Dam, NM

The fish were bigger

Flies were small

Working our tans

Zugbug got some airtime for his sponsor

Bring your combat waders

Shepard escaped our lens most of the time (witness protection?)

These are just a few initial highlights and are not the largest fish caught. While this trip was more about getting old friends on the river rather than shooting video or getting pictures, a lot of that happened. Zugbug will be putting in some serious time in the editing bay getting the footage ready for public consumption (bleeping out the audio on missed hook sets).

Gear: San Juan 2014 - Getting Small

A dozen flies with room for more.

Continuing on our theme focusing on gear for the upcoming FlyfishMagazine trip to the San Juan River in New Mexico, much research is being put into fly selection. Jeff Paisley, our staff tail water specialist, advised small flies, but I didn't realize just how small until I got in touch with Greg Sabin of http://www.sanjuanriverflies.com. His website let me know pretty quickly that my size 18-20 definition of small was a bit on the big size.

Greg put together a personalized assortment of nymphs ranging from size 22-28 coupled with a few traditional local flies. This should give me a leg up as long as I can figure out how to get them tied to the end of my leader (note to self get some magnifying lenses). He shipped them quickly and at a very fair price. Just so we are clear on the sizes, the photo above shows a dozen midges on the face of a dime with room for a few more.

Stay tuned for more gear features, including some innovative strike indicator options we will be testing on the river.

Extra points if you picked up on the vague Steve Martin reference.

 

Gear: San Juan River Trip 2014

Over the next few weeks I will be sharing a few gear selections for our Spring trip to fish the San Juan. We will be meeting up with a few members of the original FlyfishMagazine crew and since we haven't seen these guys in a few years, one of the first things we will be doing will likely be lighting up a celebratory cigar

Chris Rohr @rohr_chris of The Scandinavian Tobacco group provided us with the smokes pictured above. As if the premium names ( Punch, Partagas etc.) aren't enough to get your attention, these come in unique water proof packaging that will keep the cigars inside fresh for up to two years with no humidor needed. Look for these fine cigars at retailers across the country and watch for more gear highlights here. -long ashes

Trout Dynasty: White River Edition

Some of the OG members of the Blue Ridge Fly Fishing Association recently made their annual pilgrimage the the trout infested waters of Arkansas. Instead of fish pictures, Paisley sends us this picture of JD and Shep taking part in the day's beard growing contest. He indicated that these two lost the contest.

Dear Fly Fishing Fourm....

(editor's note - the following is presented without commentary and is in fact a fishing story- if you read anything else into it that is your own personal issue - the author's name is withheld in order to protect the guilty)

I guess you could say that I am a skeptic. I never believed the letters that I read in your publication until something just as wild happened to me. It was an early spring morning and I had just risen from a restful night camping by my favorite local fishing hole. The mist was rising from the water as I prepared my morning meal of bacon, beer, and Tylenol accompanied by some wild berries that I had picked the day before. The sun was not yet peeking over the adjacent mountain tops when I heard a splashing coming from around a bend in the stream.

Wondering what it could be, I cautiously crept through the grasses that separated me from the river. Soon I reached a vantage point where I could view the fishing hole and remain unseen. I had no sooner looked out onto the water when I saw her. She was sitting in the middle of the current splashing about wearing only what the good lord gave her. Her proportions were perfect she was just the right size to be a challenge yet not too large for my tastes. She would flit from one end of the pool then back to the other in a manner that could only be described as playful.

As pretty as she was to watch I knew that it was the time for action. I hurried back to camp to get my equipment. As I crept back through the woods I took out my rod. What a thing of beauty it was. Not too long or too short, I hoped it would do the job. After all I had always been told that it was all in how you used it not just the size alone. By the time I had returned to her I found something that truly shocked and disappointed me. Another man had beaten me to her and had perched himself on a rock to her left side. She didn't seem to mind this at all and kept to her business of splashing about the pool as if he wasn't even there.

I watched in silence, not wishing either of them to know I was there. My rod trembled for a chance at her. She ignored his advances and it became obvious that he was getting very frustrated with her. It was at this time I gathered up my courage and took it upon myself to step out from behind the bush that had kept me hidden from their eyes. I expected to see anger on his face or at least a measure of surprise but instead I was greeted with a smile. More a smirk than a smile as he gestured to the waters before me as if to say "Go ahead bloke, give her a go." I guess the fact that I had my rod in my hand had given away my intentions. However, I was relieved at his invitation and began preparing my equipment for action. As soon as I had my gear ready I began my play for her. I remembered what I had been taught and began my rhythmic cast. Back then forwards, then a quick pull and there it was right on the mark. She came to the surface of the pool and examined my fly with interest only to turn away at the last possible second. I was crushed but I felt that she was only playing hard to get so I tried again. This time my movements were more subtle and as she examined my fly I gave a slight twitch. That was all she needed to see and she took the bait hard.

The battle was won but the war was far from over. We moved from one end of the pool to the other. The more I would strip the harder she would pull. I kept my rod high in the air in an attempt to control her, but at times I thought she might snap it in two. The fellow watching in amazement from the bank offered his help with a net but I promptly declined. He hadn't been able to handle her before. Why should he help now? I feared he intended to whack her on the head with a large rock in order to get her to submit. That was not my style.

Finally she tired of our game and rather easily came to hand. I admired her shiny flesh and beautiful color before letting her slide back into the pool that was her home. She lazily splashed away as if nothing had happened. The fellow who had been watching was still quite excited and shouted, "Helluva fish you had there mate!" I nodded in agreement as I put my rod away. This would truly be a day to remember. Maybe I'll even write about it to one of those men's magazines. Yeah, maybe even Field & Stream.

From the Old School File: BRFFA Photos

These photos were snapped by Zugbug back in the day on a Blue Ridge Fly Fishing Association trip. The water is the New River near Boone, NC and the caster is Chuck Swenderski. No digital photo monkey business here. This shot was taken on good old black and white film.

As I recall this trip my memories include taking some heat from these guys about the patches on my boot foot chest waders and the joy of making a point with by putting a 20+ inch brown trout into the net.

Those were the days...

BRFFA: Original Gangsta Fly Fishers

From the early days of the net, some of the old school fly anglers of the Blue Ridge Fly Fishing Association.

Right to left - Jeff Paisley, Brad Hincher, Me -sans goatee and rocking the trucker hat, Russel Ashburn, Dad, and Mitch who's last name escapes me but who I recall is a heck of a guy.

More photos reside here. The pictures were small and the scanner was expensive.

Worn!

So I am at dinner the other night with my Dad and notice that he is wearing a ragged old Blue Ridge Fly Fishing Association (our old FFF Chapter from the Lowe's days) hat. It has to be at least 12 years old and as you can see it's pretty beat up. Dad said he was in a big outdoor outfitter's store and saw a new hat, ever bit as ragged, that was selling for $25. He decided to wear his and is entertaining all offers.

All of this got me to thinking and wondering if I should consider a side venture dealing in vintage (and somewhat smelly) angler's apparel. It might be the next big thing in the world of folks who want to look like they spend 200+ days on the water but can only really muster much less.

Since only 12 of the BRFFA hats were ever printed I would say they qualify collector's items and have to be worth a load of cash. They were originally sold to quite a motley lot who have since dispersed around the country. If you happen to see one coming towards you on a river bank, you will probably want to give the angler under it a wide berth.

Email me a photo of your favorite item of threadbare angler wear and I'll post them for all to admire.